Never Say Never
by Oh-So-Retro
Summary: She was left in despair. Cast aside after years of friendship. And here I am, waiting to pick her up from the debris. I write this to try and soothe myself. This story of hatred, loathing and love.
1. Chapter One: Absence

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Duh.

**Note:** I am re-writing this. I hope you like this version better. In this version, Hermione is not Tom Riddle's daughter. Sorry!

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**Chapter One: Absence**

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. But in the case of Hermione Granger, I am not so sure.

In this world of prejudice, many assume that just because I am a Slytherin, that I am the boy of Lucius Mafloy, that I must be evil as well. Scheming the hours of life away. People have come up with incredulous stories of how I serve the Dark Lord, that I have his mark branded upon my arm.

Upon birth, I was chosen to become the exact replica of him. The one I call _Father_. His mindless droning, drilling this fantasy of his that Mudbloods are inferior in our race worked on me when I was five. I believed him. Till I started to doubt the words from my Mother's actions.

Mother carried a shawl, she hid herself under it and went out into the night when Father was out at his meetings. Mother always came back crying, soot on her beautiful satin dress and blood staining her hands.

I made the mistake of asking Father.

"Father," I asked one day, when we had a family get-together in the Malfoy Library, "What was Mother doing last week when you were out?"

Father turned an accusing eye at Mother. "Yes dear," he whispered, "What were you doing out?"

"Nothing," my Mother replied quickly. Too quickly for my Father.

"You liar," he hissed, drawing out his wand, "You shall be punished for disobeying the Dark Lord." Father raised his wand and pointed the tip in the direction of Mother. "Crucio."

The screams I heard. Loud, shrill, painful. I had caused Mother to feel pain. I was seven then, and I knew what I had done was terribly wrong. And to pay the consequences I stepped in front of Mother screaming, "Run Mother! Run!"

Father quickly drew his wand away from me. But Mother had not run. I looked back and pleaded her silently. _Please go now!_ She couldn't even see me. She was lying motionless on the lush green carpet.

"Boy, move away immediately," Father shouted angrily, "Move away—now!" I had never seen Father this angry, I had never felt to protect my Mother. I had never felt the urge to say no. No. No. Never.

"Never," I said quietly, but my whisper was soon heard.

"You dare disobey me, my son?" He asked, raising his wand again.

My eyes were wild with fear. I could do nothing and froze on the spot. I could hear the curse. I could see the red light, and I felt the intense impact. But I couldn't run. I couldn't leave Mother here so vulnerable. And then when I thought I was going to be alright. I felt the pain.

Oh the pain was unbearable. It was like the world was caving in on me, and I was slowly being heated in a furnace.

Once I had felt it, he lifted the spell. I looked into his eyes. Those once filled with spite, were filled were guilt. My Father actually felt guilty for the pain he had inflicted on his own wife and son. His son; his own flesh and blood.

That emotion soon faded and his eyes turned a stormy grey, glaring directly towards me, "Draco," he informed, "From now on, you report to me every night in the chamber beneath your room. If you don't, it will be one hour under the Criticus Curse. Do you understand?"

Helpless. I was helpless. I nodded.

From then on, I was just a mannequin to beat, to bruise, and to hurt. It was as if I wasn't even human. But, so was my Father. He wasn't human.

Mother used to tell me stories on how Father and her fell in love. They seem like fairytales right now. She used to tell me how kind Father was; before he was washed away into the depths of evil by the lyrical words of the Dark Lord.

He was my problem. Father was just the puppet that beast used to his own pleasure. And I was to be just like him. To hate Mudbloods and Muggles.

Hermione Granger was the one to teach me how wrong he was. How wrong my life just was. How wrong life just was.

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That was the day I found her in her own compartment, without Potter or Weasley. Just finding her crying was a shock, but without Potter and Weasley, it seemed rather odd.

To say I fell for her right then and there would be incredible rubbish. My fondness for her had been built over the respect and intelligence that she carried. From the middle of First Year, I looked up to her, to a Mudblood, and I wondered what Father would think.

Remembering what happened to Mother, kept me on my toes and stopped me from writing about her in my letters to Father in anything but loathing. Of course, he agreed and said many hurtful words. Many a nights I had stayed up, burning the parchment as if it were infected. The more letters I burnt that were from him, I was soothing myself.

I was deluding myself that everything was going to be okay, but nothing was. When I went home for the holidays, I was treated just the same. And soon, I dreaded to go back. The look of pride I had to wear around Potter that I had a family to go back to was killing me. Home was a foreign word to me. I envied Potter when he got to stay in the safe vicinities of Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger taught me to pity Potter than envy him.

Her back was turned to the window, she was staring at the passing scenery. Blurs of green and blue were all she could see, for the tears falling down her face and clouding her eyes were obscuring her vision.

I coughed loudly to get her attention and sat on the bench across from her, staring at her. She didn't want my sympathy.

"What do you want Malfoy," she asked spitefully. She had enough reason to curse me out of her compartment, yet she didn't.

"What's wrong with Potter and Weasel?" I asked, concern laced my voice, "Why aren't they with you?"

To say she was suspicious of my concern would be an understatement. She looked at me with uttermost distrust. "What do you want Malfoy," she repeated.

"Why are you crying?" I mocked her, but leaned forwards towards her. My actions betrayed my voice.

She leaned back and abruptly wiped away her tears with her sleeve. She looked rather pretty when she was crying. She looked rather—innocent. "It's none of your concern _Malfoy_," she said.

I had been hurt before of course. Physically. But the harsh reality that Hermione Granger hated me, hurt me much more.

"Fine Granger," my voice was cold, "I thought you just needed some comforting." I stood up walked to the compartment door.

I could see her battle with herself. Whether to give in and let me comfort her, or better yet, let me leave her alone. She chose to keep me. I was one step closer to her.

"I'm sorry, please stay with me?" She asked me, grabbing onto my robes. I immediately stepped away from the door and seated myself by her.

"What's wrong," I asked her. She couldn't bring herself to look up at me.

"Harry and Ron," she sighed dejectedly, "They won't talk to me, much rather look at me."

"With such a pretty face," I started saying, "Why would they not look at you?"

She looked up then and stared at my face with bewildered eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

I shrugged my shoulders, I knew her enough not to burden her with the fact I was in love with her from practically the moment I met her. She would have been critical over-analyzing why I was torturing her every moment of her waking life. She would then know that I craved attention. Especially from her.

She looked out of the window and watched the scenery again. I was going to ask her about Potter and Weasley when all of a sudden she answered my unasked question.

"Harry hates me," she said sadly, "He hates the fact that I banished the Dark Lord, rather than him. His fame really had got to his head." She paused. "But I can't help but still love him."

I had always known of the romance between them. I saw their secret glances. Their hands entwined under the table. I felt sick with jealousy. Hermione had always belonged to me. Potter had never even liked her from the beginning. Not like me.

"Potter is an idiot," I said viciously, "And I am glad it was you who killed the Dark Lord rather than that Potter, his head is big enough."

Hermione winced at my words. She hasn't gotten used to my company.

"Harry isn't all that bad," Hermione commented, "He's actually sweet, sometimes."

"Has he ever told you he loved you," I asked, and saw her hesitate to answer, "And really meant it that it was as if you could feel it?"

She looked down at her lap. I was right. Potter had used her, like he used many people. Oh how I loathed that Potter. Harry Potter, the star, and the wizard of the century. He was the last person on Earth any sane girl would be drawn to.

"Did he ever tell you how much you meant to him, how Cho Chang means nothing to him. Did he ever?"

"Never," she whispered harshly, tears straining to fall from her brown eyes, "Never."

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_I could not be happier than if you were to review.  
And then I'll come up with something new.  
Something more somber.  
Or something much longer.  
It's up to you.  
Only you can review.  
So do. So do.  
And I'll love you!_

**

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Thank you!**


	2. Chapter Two: Banished

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Nada. Zip.

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**Chapter Two: Banished**

When Hermione got off the train, I trailed along beside her. She wrapped her cloak around her shivering body. It was a chilly night and many students had gloves on, or a sweater underneath.

Just as last year, we took the carriages. Although I could tell how much Potter hated Hermione by the intense glare sent her way. I had to steer her well clear of Potter.

We had a carriage all to ourselves, until Pansy saw me and climbed in with me, dragging Blaise in the process.

"What's she doing here?" Pansy said indignantly, "She a—"

"Pansy," I warned, "If you want to live long enough to graduate you will not finish that sentence."

Blaise watched all this silently and gave me an inquisitive look. But I just ignored him, remembering to have a talk to him later.

"Look," I said tiredly, "Hermione's my friend now. And being my friend, she's yours too." I brushed my hair back from my face.

Pansy grumbled but agreed. Blaise had no problem and shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione was staring out the window through the whole conversation. Momentarily, I noticed she looked back at me with a sad smile.

This feeling of longing swept through me. She needed me. I wanted her. I needed to save her from Potter, from everyone.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt and everyone got out.

The Great Hall was filled with chattering students as usual, but when we arrived, half of the student population took a sordid glance at us and froze.

Potter and Weasley naturally looked up from the commotion to see what had disturbed their fans and popularity, and gave a red-hot glare at Hermione.

She was staring straight at them, but walked towards the Gryffindor table with slumped shoulders.

As she walked pass them, that Weasley girl stuck a foot out and Hermione tripped over, splaying out onto the floor.

The new trio laughed and Hermione slowly got up to continue to the end of the table.

When Hermione sat down, Dumbledore began his speech.

"As everybody has heard," Dumbledore said proudly, "Harry Potter had the biggest role in vanquishing the Dark Lord."

A round of applause was sent round the hall.

"Although—Hermione is responsible for delivering the last spell to the despicable wizard and finishing him once and for all."

Another round of applause went around.

I was aware of another glare sent to Hermione.

I saw Hermione look at Potter.

That pathetic Weasley was sitting on his lap like a whore sticking her tongue down his throat. Hermione looked like she was torturing herself.

Shattering slowly, piece by piece. I couldn't take it any longer.

Pushing away my empty plate, I got up and made my way to the Gryffindor table. Many people looked my way and hushed down.

Hermione looked around when I approached, sinking further into her seat.

"Draco not now," she whispered, "People are going to talk."

"Let them talk," I said, "It's none of their business."

But Potter and Weasley always had to interfere in everything.

"Malfoy," Weasley shouted, "Get away from our table—wait, you want _her_? I never knew you've lowered your standards. All she's good for is a quick shag. But maybe the fact of her being an ice-queen will obstruct your path."

Potter slapped him on the back for his wit. And that Weasley girl nibbled Potter's neck.

Disgusting.

"Mind your own business Weasel," I hissed, "Your sister over there looks more like a whore. Is she doing overtime in the boy's dormitory?"

Dragging Hermione to her feet, I led her to the Slytherin table, although her eyes were wide with fear.

"Draco—the Slytherins—your father—" Hermione babbled.

"Let them all rot in hell," I mumbled, "In fact, they could go all burn."

"But—but—"

I stopped and turned to face her, "Hermione, there is nothing in the world that can keep me away from you."

"Why bother now?" She asked, "Why me?"

I had an answer, a good enough reason, but I had no guts to say it. I just couldn't tell her.

"Because—you're you."

She didn't question me further and followed me silently.

The Slytherins were calm, if they were outraged, they did not show it.

Pansy, strangely seemed rather delighted to have Hermione there. They chatted easily enough and I think that surprised Hermione quite a lot.

"So how are your parents?" Pansy asked innocently enough.

Hermione looked elsewhere then back at Pansy, "They died." No trace of emotion could be found on her face. No sadness. No pain.

I guess after a long period of mourning, one learns to ease the pain quickly.

"I'm sorry," said Pansy.

"Don't be," Hermione reassured her, "It's not as if you killed them."

The meal was silent from then on, and then we parted. I couldn't bear leaving Hermione to those two. Potter and Weasley.

Anything could happen, and more importantly, they could use her against me. Or otherwise…

I better follow her. And I did. I walked and walked and walked.

God. How high up is this stupid tower.

Seven whole floors.

Wow, the Gryffindors sure know how to live, trekking _mountains_.

Although we Slytherins have nothing to brag about, with _our_ dormitories in the dungeons.

I hope Potter and Weasley haven't tried anything on Hermione.

I don't think I'll be able to cope.


	3. Chapter Three: Heart of Ice

**Note:** Thank you for your patience. Here is the next update.

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**Chapter Three: Heart of Ice**

My cold exterior seemed to melt away, every step I took.

Just imagining Hermione oh-so-vulnerable to those two idiots.

But I wasn't stupid enough to know that just because Hermione destroyed the Dark Lord that Potter wouldn't try something horrid and get away with it.

I knew Weasley wasn't as foolish as he looked, after all he always won every game at Wizard Chess.

After then, I quickened my steps until I stopped to see a bunch of First Years huddling around the portrait waiting for the Prefects to open the door.

Then I saw her.

Hermione of course. Her cheeks were red, and looking closer, so were her eyes. When I spotted Potter, I knew why those traces of tears were so apparent on her face.

Anger coursed through my veins. I pushed my way passed those First Years ignoring their curses and shouts, and evil glares.

"What's wrong Potter?" I asked coldly, "Not enough girls to hang over your every word." My body was covering Hermione's small one.

"It's none of your business," he sneered, his glasses gleamed mockingly at me, blinding me for just a moment.

"Anything that has to do with Hermione does," I answered back, earning a few shocked looks.

"When have you begun to show an interest in—_her_," Potter said, I wanted to punch him in the face. "She's nothing but a filthy _Mudblood_."

Nobody could've stopped me. I flung a punch at his face and it landed in his stomach. He stumbled back, and wiped his bleeding nose.

"You kiss your dead mother with that mouth Potter?" I said scornfully, "Your dead _Mudblood _mother."

I could see Potter's eyes flash in anger for a moment before a calm look glazed over. "Why would you care so much Malfoy? You didn't seem to mind calling—_her_—a _Mudblood_ in Second Year.

His face; seemed mocking, to be pummeled.

So I did.

Several times actually, until Weasley showed up and pulled back Hermione's hair. I heard a whimper behind, cursing I turned around to face what was to befall. That Weasley girl, although it made no difference which Weasley, was gripping a lock of Hermione's hair, twisting it and pulling it back, till she felt pain.

"Let her go," I warned.

"Let Harry go," she said, "You—_bastard_."

"Give Hermione here," I said, she complied much to my amazement. "If you weren't a girl I wouldn't think twice to hit you."

"Gladly so," she said with a smile playing on her lips.

"I would," Hermione muttered suddenly and launched herself on the girl. Naturally, since the Weasley played Quidditch, she found herself on top and gripping Hermione's hair, yet again.

Before she could do anymore damage, I tore Hermione away from that wretched girl's grasp.

"I said I wouldn't hit you the first time, the second, you're not so lucky." I turned to face Hermione breathing raggedly. "Are you—okay?"

She nodded lightly before glaring menacingly at Weasley.

The Weasley girl tossed the remark off and sashayed her way to Potter, linking her arm into his, and entering the open portrait.

The First Years scrambled in as quickly as they could, afraid they might have to endure the night out there in the cold coridoor.

That coridoor was soon empty, only two people remained.

"You can stay with me. In my room." She looked up quizzically into my face.

"How?"

"It's quite easy. You walk; using those stick things you call legs, to my room. You can wander to my bed or just let me carry you there—"

"I meant, won't your Slytherin friends—maybe friends is too strong a word, I mean, allies, find my presence, rather disturbing?" she interrupted.

"After the what happened in the Great Hall, I think they'll ease into it," I replied.

"I still think it's a bad idea." I sighed.

Apparently, I seemed to look dejectedly, because she was staring at me rather oddly. An icy exterior seemed to be building up again.

She started to look rather upset at me.

"I'm not letting you spend another night with _those two_."

"I can fend for myself." I snorted at her reply. Not only was she really bad at lying, but her obvious reasons were insane.

"It's either stay with me, or wait till I report what happened to Dumbledore."

"What makes you think Dumbledore will believe you." I could tell I was losing what amount of apparent trust I had achieved.

"Oh believe me, he will."


	4. Chapter Four: Intricate Designs

**Disclaimer:** I do not own. Wheeeee! This Saturday! It's coming out!

**Note:**Shower me with compliments! Shower me with your wonderful reviews. Please.

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**Chapter Four: Intricate Designs**

She actually agreed to stay the night in the Slytherin Dungeons; although it took much persuasion, and I nearly had to drag her all the way down the stairs into those cold and dank corridors.

From that little description, I could tell why no one enjoys coming down here.

We arrived in by the Rouge's statue, and couldn't take a step further because of a little problem.

That little ghost.

That menace; who takes much pride in pulling stupid pranks on the students.

True, that's what Slytherins do as well, deriving pleasure out of others discomforts. But in the middle of the night?

"What are you doing here, Peeves?"

"Little—ferret—wants—to—play—bouncy—bouncy!" Peeves shrieked delightfully, throwing balls of what seemed to look like balloons, but as soon as they popped, the object touching would bounce.

I was getting quite sick of all the ferret jokes.

I could see that it was quite a struggle for Hermione to stop laughing, since she was biting the inside of her mouth.

"If you don't leave us alone, I'll call the Bloody Baron," I warned him. He took no notice and laughed, aiming a balloon at me. It was as if he was mocking me, trying to see if I really would. He underestimates my patience.

"Oh _Bloody Baron_," I sang. The ghost floated from the facing wall and without hesitation, Peeves had disappeared at once.

But not before he hit me with a balloon.

_Bounce._

_Thump._

_Bounce._

_Thump._

_Bounce._

In the darkness, there was a fit of laughter. She was holding her sides, laughter pouring out and tears threatening to come out.

_What's she laughing about_, I pouted. _Stupid girl._

"Shut up," I told her. She took no note of me and continued to laugh to her heart's content. Impatience. Embarrassment. I loved her. But I had to draw the line at—too much laughter towards me. Although the sounds of her tinkling laugh entranced me. "Come on! Shut up!"

She wiped a tear from her eye before answering me. "There." _Cough._ "Seems to be a—" _Splutter._ "Problem."

"I can see that." My feet didn't touch the ground entirely. It looked as if I was jumping.

"Encounter a little problem Malfoy?" A voice greeted me at the entrance. I smiled sardonically at the stupid git.

"What do you want Blaise? Galleons? Your own room? A one-way ticket to _Hell_?" His own smirk didn't falter, and by magic, it grew and he seemed to be leering.

_At me? _This horrible thought passed over me in shock.

_Blaise is gay? _Oh well, if he is, then that was certainly no surprise.

When I looked at his leering gaze, it was not directed at me, but Hermione.

_That horny git, she just got here and already he wants to get in her pants. Or very lacy knickers. _I gave him a cold hard look before pushing into the Common Room, leaving the two at the entrace. Stupid Blaise. Stupid Hermione.

I sat near the fireplace, just watching them carefully. Blaise placed his hand on her shoulder and she did nothing to move it away.

She put her hand on top of his. That was—memo: must let Blaise suffer a painful—you know what? Screw him!

"Come here Mudblood!"

Shit.

Old habits die hard. I do love her.

But as I said, old habits die hard.

She gave me a hurt look, before turning to Blaise and immersed herself in a conversation with him. I sighed and made my way towards them. She caught my eye and smirked. A smirk from Hermione? Very unexpected. Very Slytherinesque.

She leaned into him, whispering something in his ear I couldn't quite catch.

Reading her lips I caught a "Draco—make—spring—punch—kill—chicken."

The last one was from Blaise. I am not a chicken. If ever an animal. I would be a Dragon, just like my name.

When he suddenly pressed his hips into hers and she looked befuddled, that was the last straw. "You know what Zabini? Step away from Hermione. Go back to your Dormitory. I hope you sleep and never wake up."

"Right back at you, mate," he replied with a laugh and a sneaky grin. _Stupid gay fag._

He disappeared into the back and I heard a large crash following.

Serves him right. Trip over something big and heavy, you can land on Goyle and he can ravish you! That thought troubled me a bit.

I was more disgusted, but I let it pass, there were more important things to do. Turning back to Hermione I sounded an order.

"Follow me."

She complied, twisting away from the Common Room to a small alcove, where a hidden door could be seen, the handle gleaming in the faint candlelight. She was about to press down on the handle before I stopped her. She was about to complain when I put a finger to her lips.

"Lumos." I showed her the intricate designs on the door, there were fiver small letters scrambled up to read something like gibberish at the top right corner.

_Ernev_ that was what it looked like. With a flick of my wand and a simple spell I had researched to no end, the lock of the door clicked and she so helpfully pushed the door open.

"Why that word?" Hermione asked in fascination.

"It was—nothing, maybe one day I can tell you."

She looked around the room for the first time. "Where do I sleep?" She gave a big yawn.

"On the bed."

"Where will you sleep then?"

"The floor, it's no trouble for me." She gave me an appraising look. "Really. Take it."

She slid under the covers without any complaint. And I slid into the covers and rested on the mattress that lay on the floor.

And even this late into the night, she was so curious. "Draco?" Pause. "You'll never let me go right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You won't leave me right?"

"No. I won't."

"You sure?"

"I would _never_."


	5. Chapter Five: Cauldron Spill

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter does not belong to me. Dur.

**AuthorNote: **Sorry about the long period of time which I didn't update. Please give me some feedback. I love you all. Will you be able to give me the high review mark of 130?

_PS._ I will not convert to Blaise canon. Fanon Blaise will always be in my heart. So die canon.

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**Chapter Five: Cauldron Spill**

"Draco."

Something sharp was poking at me. I groaned and turned over.

"Draco," the voice said angrily. Sharp poking ensued. "Wake up! You'll miss breakfast!"

Who was that in my room at this hour?

Blaise?

Pansy?

No, they can't have gotten past the door. It was when I finally remembered what happened last night, I bolted upright.

"Hermione?" Looking around the room I couldn't seem to spot her anywhere.

She then emerged from behind the bed, her cheeks flushed pink. "I was just changing."

_Oh. _

A smirk, a very perverted-wanting Hermione-smirk was on my face.

"Draco, don't look at me like that," Hermione told him, blushing even further. "And you need to get changed anyway." I yawned and stood up; my uniform was crumpled from sleeping on it.

"I'm already changed." She looked at me with discontent.

"Renirio." My clothes straightened out by itself.

Clever.

* * *

Breakfast went on in silence between us two, although it wasn't the case for everything around us. The other Slytherins were looking on in distaste, the Ravenclaws were baffled, the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were gossiping as usual. 

Pansy did her best to create some kind of a friendly atmosphere with Hermione, too bad it didn't work. Hermione kept pushing all the food from her plate. Blaise on the other hand was more understanding and summerized everythingin few words, "Fuck them all."

She chuckled then, and looked longingly over to the Gryffindor table, towards—Potter and the two Weasleys. She sighed and continued to stare at her plate.

"Hermione?" That seemed to snap her out of it. "It's time for Arithmancy, lets make our way." I held my hand out. She took it, and I dragged her out of there, while everyone else's eyes followed us out.

"Draco," she mumbled incoherently. I was definitely worried. "What do I do?" The last bit came out as a harsh whisper. She looked up at me; those brown eyes made my heart ache out to her.

"Continue."

"To do what?" she asked helplessly.

"With everything, life goes on. La-de-da."

"I don't know what normal is anymore."

"You do, Hermione. This is what normal is now, and frankly, no matter what happens; I'll be there to support you." She smiled at me sadly, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly.

She laughed and wiped away traces of oncoming tears. "I'm so silly. Lets get to class now."

* * *

Classes bled into the day and finally it was the last two. 

Potions.

I seated myself next to Hermione as Blaise and Pansy sat right beside us. Snape swept in with a flourish and waved his hand, words appearing on the board.

"First day of the year, I hope you all don't fail so early." He gave a disgusted look at Potter. Scanning the classroom he stopped on me, clearly not used to the fact that Hermione and I were friends.

"Ms. Granger," he drawled. "Would you kindly tell me why you are seated next to Mr. Malfoy and not Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but naturally I beat her to it. "I asked her to Professor."

Professor was taken aback, just for a split second. He regained his composure quickly. "Very well Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione set up the cauldron and started on the _Ernev Potion_. I gathered all the ingredients in together. I sliced open the Toad's stool and set it aside with the Newt's eyes and some pixie dust. The one drop of poison we were supposed to add was sided along with the poison of the Taserdom, the next deadliest poison to the Basalisk's.

Tossing all the ingredients in, Hermione stirred the mixture twenty four times clockwise, and two anti-clockwise. I added the drop of poison, and watched it go from a dark shade of blue to a light violet colour. All around me, I could tell that everyone was struggling. With her intelligence and my Potion's skills, this potion was child's play.

"Can anybody tell me what the properties of this Potion are?" Snape said icily, standing with his arms crossed as usual.

Someone's arm shot up immediately. I know you can guess who.

No one else's hand was up, but Snape ignored her presence. "Haven't been catching up on your assignment I see. Ten inch of parchment on this potion due in tomorrow."

Finnegan and Weasley started to protest indignantly. Snape took away twenty House Points each.

Hermione looked rather dejected that she wasn't called on.I consoled her by whispering something in her ear. She chuckled at that.

Potter turned around and glared at her. She was silent as he bore his eyes into her skull. "I bet you enjoyed that didn't you Mudblood," he hissed. "Bet you've taken Parkinson's place as the Slytherin slut."

Weasley snickered. "Bet you'd love to do Malfoy. Bet you have already. _Slut._"

Hermione stayed silent staring at the floor, stiff and not moving. She tried to be strong. "Bet you've been doing your sister, Weasley. You know that's incest right?"

Weasley's face flushed red and he nudged Potter to say something. "Actually, you know what Malfoy, I feel sorry for you. A day with that Mudblood could send me reeling with disgust. But bet you did her all the same." That idiot carrot-head freak started laughing at me. Potter started joining in and made low perverse sounds.

Anger, loathing and spite rose up in me. If I could, I would've punched the living daylights out of them. Instead, I took the cauldron filled with the _Ernev Potion_ and purposely emptied out all the contents on them both.

Hah! Who's laughing now Potter.

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**Review** and I still decide whether to continue. No. I will continue. But REVIEW! 


	6. Chapter Six: Schemes on Revenge

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. La-la-la-la.

**A/N: (PLEASE READ, VERY IMPORTANT!)  
**Everything is under Hiatus at the moment, I have updated this and this will probably be my latest update for the next few months. If you want to read more of my Hermione/Draco work I have started a new account on to cure this writer's block. Here's my other account name: we are infinate

There. Go on now. Read and review!

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**Schemes on Revenge**

The scene unfolded was brilliantly amusing, for let's say: Snape, the Slytherins, perhaps a bit of Hermione and me.

To watch Potter and Weasley both glow pink and then suddenly burst out in feathers was too much for my poor stomach to take.

Slowly but surely, tears glistened from underneath my closed eyelids. I collapsed onto the ground, my body racking with intense laughter.

"Malfoy," Potter shouted through the pink sticky liquid, "I'm going to kick your ferret arse!"

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Professor Snape looked at Potter with a bemused smirk on his triumphant face.

"I think Potter looks quite fetching," Zabini drawled from the side. "Pink is definitely a colour that suits him well. Too bad the face is scarred."

"You mean his scar?" Hermione commented, twirling her hair around her finger nervously.

"No I meant his face," Blaise repeated. "It has been hideously disfigured due to the lack of beauty that perhaps he needed to look—well like me."

"Incredibly pompous," I snorted. "He's already like you."

Zabini gave me a withering look that told me to _go fuck off and die._

Hermione chuckled under her breath.

It was only a matter of time before things got heated up again with Potter and his idiot side-kick.

"What you are laughing at," Weasley snapped at her. "You better watch your back from now on. Ginny is going to get you back for what you did to Harry!"

"Oh has Weasel not been getting some over the holidays?" Pansy sneered.

"You stay out of this you Slytherin slut," Harry snarled, cleaning off the potion with a flick of his wand.

A fight was bound to break out.

Snape, being the ever rational one, although very greasy, stepped in to intervene. "Mr Potter," he drawled, "I think it most appropriate if you would meet me for detention with Mr Weasley for, first of all, harassing other students, and secondly, for disrupting the entire class with your clumsiness."

No matter how much Potter claimed it was I that had dumped the potion on him, Snape wouldn't listen. I love having such a caring and wonderful Head of House.

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Snape had actually lectured me after class. However he still had the faintest trace of a grin on his face. That hypocritical bastard!

Hermione was already in her next class and I was off to mine. I walked with Blaise to Transfiguration. He was in high spirits as he talked about—all things possible. He wouldn't shut up.

"Oh and once when you were out in the Great Hall for dinner, all the Slytherins gathered together and sold all of your blanket collection. Although we did duplicate them so you wouldn't hex us. I thought it rather funny that some Fifth Year Hufflepuff had bought the _entire _collection for thirty Galleons. She must've been desperate for some hot Malfoy-blanket-loving. I can't really say I know the feeling. I've never been infatuated with you Malfoy, perhaps it's the reason that you're not as good-looking as me, or even more so. But good-looking people are so hard to find these days—"

"For the love of Merlin, Zabini," I screamed, turning to face him, "would you please shut up for one second?"

Zabini looked behind me and chuckled.

"What is it now?" I sighed in frustration.

He shook his head and traced his lips with his fingers, indicating that he wasn't supposed to be speaking.

"Tell me Zabini," I seethed, "or it's your life on the line."

"There's a Norwegian Ridgeback behind you," he replied with a grin on his face.

My eyes glimmered in excitement as I turned around.

Only to see a miniature version of what Zabini had told me.

"What the hell is that?"

"Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall scolded, "please refrain from using such language in my classroom."

"Oh I am terribly sorry Professor," I simpered, "I shall now wash my dirty, foul mouth out!"

I was not going to do that, but that idiot Zabini—although I have suspicions that he did it on purpose—waved his wand and filled my mouth with soap.

That little wanker—I was going to castrate that evil little zucchini.

Yes, Zabini has some weird fascination with zucchinis since he was young; perhaps it's because of his Italian heritage? All Italians have fascinations with weird vegetables.

I wonder…

Quickly noticing the stinging pain in my mouth I rinsed out the soap with water, all the while glaring at the laughing idiot.

"Oh Malfoy, you should've seen your face! I think even old sag-face McGonagall couldn't stop laughing!"

Once more, I sent my famous glare at him and tried to kill him with my evil red-slit eyes—wait; I don't have red-slit eyes! I am thinking of the dead Voldemort…evil snake-like eyes that could kill a man in seconds and send shivers down his spine.

I shall thrive to become him one day, except without all the killing and slaughtering of Muggle-borns. I'm quite fond of them actually.

One in particular…

Oh Hermione!

Darn, I'm swooning again.

Oh wait for the revenge Zabini.

You'll be crushed when I'm done with you.

Perhaps my evil scheme shall be—crushing you with a mountain of zucchinis!

Perhaps not, since it seems rather childish of me.

My evil scheme…

Yes…

Must work on evil laugh…

Yes…


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